


Heaven, Gateway, Hope

by sachspanner



Series: 7-Day Challenge #2 [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, New Order, Not Canon Compliant, Songfic, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1868016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachspanner/pseuds/sachspanner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson struggles to concentrate on the case at hand.</p>
<p>As of series 3, no longer canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven, Gateway, Hope

Sherlock had only been back a month, and already John had begun to forget that his flatmate had ever been dead. He had fallen back in step with Sherlock’s customary alternation between frenzy and torpor, and nearly nothing had changed.

Nearly nothing.

Perhaps it was the relief he felt at having him back from the dead, but John had begun to look at Sherlock in an entirely new way. The aching months without him had brought into relief just how much he needed Sherlock.

It wasn’t an emotional need, either. Anybody desiring an emotional connection with Sherlock Holmes, namely Molly, had failed to read the signs. Something Sherlock Holmes would not forgive.

So Sherlock wasn’t emotional, but was he sexual? John’s imagination had not been afraid to cast him in such a light, though that said more about the state of John’s libido than it did Sherlock’s.

Sherlock was working on a case. He paced about the flat, gesticulating wildly and firing hypotheses in John’s direction as if he cared whether the other man listened or not.

John was not working on the case. He had been told to, or at least it was made clear he was expected to, by Sherlock, but he certainly had no interest in it. The temptation to just watch was too great.

Green eyes? Blue eyes? Grey eyes? John could stare all day and never know, only desire. Those eyes would widen in surprise as John made his move. Sherlock had only briefly suspected him, and back then he had been wrong. However, when John scanned him predatorily from the comfort of his armchair, he made no move to decline any advances.

John knew Sherlock better than to assume this meant the attention was welcomed. More likely unnoticed.

He wondered what he’d have to do to catch Sherlock’s notice. Stand up? Stride toward him? A hand on his arm, his face, his _thigh_? A range of possibilities, each more thrilling than the last, each more likely than the last to make John need to adjust his trousers.

“Of course!” Sherlock punched through John’s thoughts. “John, fetch the matches- we’re going back to the crime scene.”

With that, Sherlock was gone, and another stifled evening come to nothing for John.

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you before,” he whispered, watching Sherlock flagging down a cab. “No, I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”


End file.
